A Song of Ice and Fire
Episode One In Depth Summary
In Kings Landling:Graffin Coldwater hadn’t heard the bells of the Sept of Bealor ring this loud, and this long in his entire life. Word spread fast through court: Jon Aryn was dead. Quickly Graffin made his way to speak with his sponsor, the man who had bought his knighthood, and ensured his house didn’t collapse into the annals of history: Petyr Baelish. The acting Hand of the King was busying himself in the Sept of Bealor with having the hand’s body for it’s lay in state. “You’ll be going North Ser Coldwater” Petry said without even looking up from a clipboard as he scribbeld down notes and numbers. “North? Why exactly would I be going North? Am I going eagle hunting again?” “No, you’re to follow the King, and ensure you meet a Lord who will likely be going north as well: Aiden Rathais, I will explain further, once I am free to leave the capital for a brief absence.” “Am I to go alone, or take my household?” Petyr Smiled. “The roads are dangerous Ser Coldwater, it’s dangerous to travel alone.” Ser Coldwater had his orders, and took his leave, he had preparations to make. In the Vale: Lord AIden Rathais was dining with his new wife the former Lady Royce when Measter Mance limped his way into the dining hall with a somber look on his face, carrying two parcels. One was small as if carried by a lone raven, the other was a sealed wooden box, obviously carried by a rider still wet from the rain that had been falling for the past few days. “News from the capital my Lord, m’lady, dark news.” Aiden raised an eyebrow and motioned for the smaller parcel. As it was handed to him his face went pale upon noticing the seal upon: the stamp of the hand of the king, but black. “Grim news indeed…” he said under his breath as he broke the seal and read it. After a breif moment he threw the letter down and scowled. “The Hand of the King, my grand Uncle, is dead…” The new Lady Rathais nodded and excused herself. “I will be in the god’s wood.” Aiden nodded as he looked to Measter Crass who still bore the wooden package grimly. It bore upon it the was the mockingbird sigil of House Baelish. “What does Petyr send for me, gold I hope.” Measter Mance shrugged, and just handed the parcel off. And sat down at a chair at the dining table easing himself off his cane. Aiden quickly opened the package and saw two letters, one with the mockingbird and with an aryn blue hand of the king stamp. AIden tore upon the letter from Baelish. It read: “Dear Aiden, Jon Aryn entrusted me with this letter to be sent to you, as well as a copy to be sent to Lord Stark upon his death. I pray you can use whatever information lies inside for whatever purpose he may of had. Signed, your friend Petry Baelish.” Measter Mance watched as Aiden one hand shaking read the letter from the late Jon Aryn. After a few moments he made his way over to the fireplace, and burned the letter. “What did it say m’lord?” Aiden turned to his Measter with a grim look on his face. “Whatever they’re saying Jon Aryn died of, its a lie.” Aiden said as he charged up towards the stairs to his study. Measter Mance was able to pick up something he cursed under his breath: “fucking Lannisters!” At Dragonstone: Lord Samwell Fyre was surprised to hear the main doors to the Map Room of Dragonstone. He turned to see Lord Stannis Baratheon storm in flanked by members of his personnel guard. Samwell had to scowl a little bit when he saw his basta- naturalized bastard brother Tywin Fyre walking in next to Lord Stannis. “Lord Stannis, we didn’t expect you for another months. What brings you home from the capital so soon?” Stannis sighed as he sat down at the map table and looked long and hard across the room, directly at where Kings Landing lay, far off in the distance. “The Hand of the King is dead, surely you’ve received the raven by now” Stannis said as he tapped his fingers against the edges of the table annoyed. Samwell nodded grimly. “Yes m’lord we received it a few hours ago, much to our shock. Your condolences, I’m sure you and the late Hand were good friends, after working so closely together on the King’s small council.” Stannis nodded. “Jon Aryn was my friend, and he died for a reason, and I’ll tell you now it wasn’t sickness.” Samwell and his brother exchanged a nervous glance. Tywin was the first to speak up, and break the silence. “What exactly do you mean Lord Stannis?” Stannis sighed. “Tywin what do you suppose what happen if you found out that your brother was not legitimate, that you we’re the true heir to House Fyre? What do you think he would do?” Tywin sighed nervously. “I suppose he would do his best to ensure I could not act upon this knowledge, to defend his claim to our house, lands, titles, etc. But sir, what does this have to do with the Hand’s death?” “I believe that something similar to that happened to Jon Aryn, and had I not already been on my way out of the capital, would have happened to me. Me and Jon Aryn stumbled upon something, something that I believe the royal family would kill to keep secret.” “What was the secret my lord?” Samwell spoke fearfully. “I will not speak on it now. Samwell send for my wife she is surely deep in prayer, I neglected to tell her I would be returning today, she isn’t expecting me. And Tywin send word to Ser Davos of Seaworth, not by raven, but by a man with a strong sword arm: he is to come to Dragonstone, to speak with me about matters of grave importance. Order your man to say nothing more, nothing less. He is to tell Ser Davos he will be properly informed upon his arrival.” Tywin nodded slowly as Samwell made himself scarce to fetch Lord Baratheon’s wife as quickly as possible. “May I ask what Ser Davos is being summoned for m’lord and why it must be under such security?” Stannis was quite for a moment. He could see a storm brewing on the horizon. As the clouds began drifting closer, and the lighting began to flash, Stannis meet Tywin eye to eye as Lady Baratheon was ushered into the room. “A war council to ensure matters of succession, and that’s all I will say of it now.” Tywin nodded as he noticed Lady Baratheon flanked by her red lady: Lady Mellisandra. She had an almost unholy aura to her, but Tywin never questioned her purpose on Dragonstone. H’d heard rumors that she was the healer who cured young Shireen of her greyscale, and that’s all Tywin needed to know. “I will take my leave m’lord, and send for Ser Davos, I will handle it personally in fact. To ensure it is kept as secure as possible.” It was as a team of saliors rowed them to Dragonsreach that Tywin heard his brother speak up finally. “Do you remember what we talked about all those years ago brother, about backing the right King in the wars to come?” Tywin nodded begrudgingly. “If Lord Stannis is having to prepare for issues of royal succession for the usurpers dynasty its obvious we need to back a true claimant to the throne isn’t it?” Tywin sighed. “Brother I’ve never been much for all this cloak and dagger nonsense. If you have an idea just say it…” Samwell was quite for a moment as he inspected the men rowing their boat. He ensured they bore the crest of House Fyre on their leathers, and nothing more. “Viseryrs Targeryean…” Samwell whispered. Tywin almost had to laugh. “The begger king?! Surely you joke brother?” “No Tywin I speak the truth. I’ve heard tale of His Grace bethrothing his sister the princess to a Dothraki horse lord, a man who had under his command a hord of at least 4 thousand men, trained soldiers. All he needs is houses to truly back his return and we can depose the usurper!” “Brother are you asking me to believe that a dothraki horde will cross the narrow sea for the first time in history simply because the beggar king asks him?! Surely you can be that naive?” Samwell scowled as their boat came to port in the docks of Dragons Reach. “I’m asking you to believe in what little is left of the house that is the reason either of us are standing here Tywin. I would ask you trust me, and back the true king to the iron throne, send a raven to the palace of Ilyerio Mopantance in Pentos, our King is staying there in the mean time before his sister is married, and I would have him no were our loyalty stays true. Can you help me Tywin, for our house?” Tywin was quite for a moment, but finally he nodded. “I suppose it’s best to follow our house words is it not brother?” The two brothers shared a brief laugh and they spoke them together: “We Play the Odds” At the Wall: Commander Valyn Fyre was uninterested in the raven Measter Crass delivered to him bearing the news of the Hand’s death. He had more pressing issues to attend to. Malcolm, his friend, his ranger, was going mad. Valyn new Malcolm was lost to him when he noticed something horrific. The rangers who went with Malcolm to The Long Barrow, the ones who Malcolm told Valyn went deep into the wall to find The Crown, those men had turned up either dead in their sleep( hypotherima the Measter said), or turned up at a northern lords chopping block for desertion. He knew this would not end well, but he was charged with riding south to sue Robert Baratheon for assitance to the wall. After his return he would take another score of 100 rangers and ride north to meet with his men at Hardhome. But, he did fear for his men’s safety, which is why he sent Randyl with orders to kill Malcolm if necessary. But, as he rode south Valyn let such fears leave his mind, he would enjoy his time away from the wall, away from his duties, and perhaps he could ride north with more men with Benjen after collecting the body of yet another deserter from the wall, this one from Castle Black. Valyn sighed as he felt his breath turn to cold fog as it left his mouth. The Stark’s would be right soon enough. Winter was coming, and Valyn knew what was coming with it. They were not prepared.
In the NorthDorian drank a small celebratory toast for the death of Jon Aryn as he read the letter in the middle of his god’s wood. Young Griff looked on confused. “What are you happy for Dorian?” “One of the greatest apostates in the seven kingdoms is dead Young Griff, teh god’s are happy, so I’m happy. Have you prepared the horses? Joramun told me Lord Stark has summoned me to Winterfell.” Young Griff nodded as he left Lord Dorian to bask in the glory of his god’s wood. After a few moments Dorian left the god’s wood and made his brief goodbye to his wife, son, and step daughters. “Now you come back when the wolves are done with you husband, won’t want you getting in any fights without me” Meage said with a laugh as she kissed him on the cheek as she handed him his sword, freshly polished by the master at arms. “I’ll be back as soon as I can dear, but I’m sure you can make due without me. I’ll write you once I know what Lord Stark needs of me.” And with that Dorian, Young Griff, and Measter Joramun rode south to Winterfell. Upon their arrival Dorian discovered Winterfell was expecting far more visitors. The King was riding North, and need Lord Stark had an idea of what was to come of the royal visit. “Lord Dorian, I’m glad you could come at such short notice.” “Of course Lord Stark, I can not deny my lord my presence when it’s needed, what sort of bannermen would I be if I denied you?” “A bolton” Lord Stark said with a laugh, Dorian agreed. “Now I’ve brought you here because, the King has no Hand, and the King is coming North. And, I know Robert isn’t coming North for no reason. He’s going to ask me to be the new Hand, and I don’t trust myself to say no to him.” “And, what does this have to do with me Lord Stark?” “Well Dorian I would have you in my household guard when I ride south. To protect my family.” The words were barely out of Lord Stark’s mouth before Dorian was on his right knee with Black Dragon unsheathed and he was speaking the words of an oath of personnel service. “Lord Stark I offer my services to you, and your family. I will shield your back, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods, and the new.” Lord Stark smiled. “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth. And meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that may bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new, arise Lord Dorian Blackwyre.” Dorian and Lord Stark embraced in a quick hug, and then proceeded to walk out of the god’s wood. “And please Dorian, call me Ned.” Aiden arrived in the North as fast as he could after settling things at the Eyrie with a brief meeting with Lord Royce, now presumptive High Lord of the Vale. He was at least content in the fact that now he would at least be named Warden of the East, likely thanks to his proving of his tactful military mind. He arrived to find that he;d barley missed the arrival of the King and his party at Winterfell. He made his pleasantries with his Grace Robert the King, and quickly asked his brother to speak in the god’s wood, alone. While on route to the God’s wood however they noticed very quickly that they were being followed by one Ser Graffin Coldwater, the knight of a disgraced house from the Stormlands, known for their Lord( now a a man of the nights watch) who helped Euron Greyjoy sneak into King’s Landing. Aiden did not take to man well, but thanks to Dorian’s presence they at least were able to stay civil. Shortly after this Dorian and AIden shared a moment together in the god’s wood even seeing ghosts of their past, perhaps brought on by the god’s to give them some sort of emotional refuge within the god’s wood, with the changing world turbulent around them. There as well Aiden made his suspicions about the Hand’s death well known. After this there was the King’s party. Between drinks, women, food, and even First Ranger Benjen Stark, and Commander Valyn Fyre of the Nights Watch speaking to the King about the wall’s need for resources the party took a dip when Robert proclaimed his intent to name Ned the new Hand of the King, Ned quickly accepted and the party continued. The following morning however, was nowhere near as happy. Everyone in Winterfell awoke to the sound of dire wolf howling in fear. Aiden, Dorian, and even Ser Graffin Coldwater were the first three on the scene to find young Bran Stark lying on the cold ground of Winterfell silent and pale as a corpse. Quickly Young Griff was able to determine the boy was still alive and with that AIden whisked the boy away to Measter Leweyn of Winterfell. While this happened Dorian, Ser Coldwater, and Young Griff investigated the tower from which Bran fell. Dorian was intrigued to find a single clue: a single blonde hair, which if the boy’s fall was due to foul play limited it to about 1/7th of the kingdom, meaning a strong majority of the people of the westerlands.
Shortly after this Dorian and his brother organized an investigation into the boys foul, not believing it could simply be an accident.
In the East:Francis Pyremount wraps up his time with The Golden Company. Speaking for (presumably) the last time with Jon Cunnington. The man revealed to Francis that his days were numbered due to recently contracted Greyscale, contracted on a hunting trip to Old Valyeria with the other officers of The Golden Company( Francis was left to oversee maintenance of the camp). After this though Connington drops a more important bombshell. “Before you leave for Westeros you’ll probably want to know how our mutual friend’s plans are developing” Connington said as he drank his fill of some whiskey. “Of course” Francis said as he drank his fill. “Well the spider has agreed we should insure that the mad king’s children don’t get the chance to go mad, if you can catch my intent.” Francis nodded slowly finding the intent a little horrific. “Illyrio has arranged for princess daenerys to a dothraki horse lord, this will lead to the begger king and his sister far out east were they will likely die in obscurity as they were meant to, while we arrange for Aegon to rise in Westeros, with the help of Dorian of course.” Francis nodded a little mordified and took his leave of Jon’s presence and decided to spend some time in camp before paying for his passage back home. While he enjoyed some food from the local cook Francis had a profound vision in the camp fire. He found himself before Reylor, the true presence of Reylor. The Red God showed him a vision of a a young female dragon being hunted by a white serpent. Reylor even went as far as to touch Francis on the shoulder and proclaim to him, that Francis had a part to play in the great war to come. When Francis emerged from his vision he found he’d walked out into the grasslands outside of Pentos and saw on his bare shoulder was the burned print of a hand-print, proof his vision was real. The first thing Francis did was seek out a gift to give to the princess at her weeding, a gift worthy of her presence in the plans of the red god, with that in mind Francis quickly found a red temple, and requisitioned a red priest to give to her as a hand maiden. After obtaining this gift Francis presented himself as the palace of Illyrio and saught out Viseryes Targeryan, the begger king. He was received about as well as expected. Quickly though Viseryes realized Francis had come to serve him, in any way he could. Viserys quickly realized if he was to be the King, he would have need of a King’s Guard, and he asked for Francis’s sword. Quickly Francis was on his knees before the proclaimed King of Westeros sword across his plate mailed knee and he spoke the words. “King Viseryes, Second of your Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Realm, I do plegde to you, and your sister, my service. I will shield your backs, I will keep your counsels, I will give my life for both of you if it comes to that. I swear to this you by the Lord of Light.” Viseryes nodded. “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. I plegde to ask no service of you that my bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new, arise Ser Francis Pyremount of the King’s Guard.” Francis stood up with a smile on his face hiding a laugh. VIseryes raised an eyebrow. “What is it Ser Francis, what do you find funny?” “Well you see your Grace it’s my armor” Francis motioned to his armor that he recently had modified to have dragon iconography, to match his sword Fyrebrand which bore red runes the in the shape of dragon across it. “It seems I’m the first dragon knight of the King’s Guard in two hundred years, if not more.” Francis watched as his King laughed, the princess laughed a little as well. “I suppose you’re right you shall be known as Ser Francis Pyremount the Dragon Knight of the King’s Guard to House Targaryean.” After this Francis spent the next fort night guarding his king and princess until the weeding, and once the weeding came to pass he oversaw a few things. Among other things: the giving of his gift to Daenerys, a red priest to act as her hand maiden, the plegde of Jorah Mormont to serve House Targaryean, growing the King’s Guard, making Francis the Lord Commander of their King’s Guard, and of course Daenerys being given to her husband Khal Drogo, who knew Francis by reputation of his youth as a mercenary in the East, well known for fighting off Dothraki hoards for the free cities. And as he rode back to Pentos with his King Francis realized something: he wouldn’t be going home anytime soon, his god needed him here, and his wife would have to understand that. But, just because he was here in the east, didn’t mean his plans in the west were done.